


The Centurion

by IrishMenZ



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrishMenZ/pseuds/IrishMenZ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>New forces are at work for the sky people and new enemies will arise</p><p> </p><p>This is based a few weeks after the end of Season 3</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Centurion

The sun had just risen as Nyko poured out a cup of tea. Viewing the star as it slowly climbed the sky pondering his days to come, waiting for the next group of hunters to arrive with a stag or a boar. Secretly hoping for a wounded fighter to give him something to do for the next hour. Healing at this point almost seemed mechanical at this point of his life. Nyko had begun what the sky people taught him as they called “sterilizing” his tools. Just as he was finished with his forced routine the hunting party came back with no boar, but one hunter with a sprained ankle and a scraped up knee.

Alaric, Nyko’s nephew, eagerly volunteered to be the hunter that searches for the morning broth. Nyko, fearing his sister’s wrath, interjected his call to adventure. A boy of fifteen winters should help with hunting and supporting the village. His family wanted to keep the young man out of harm's way. Alaric pleaded and argued for the opportunity to hunt. Nyko finally came around to see his nephew had what it takes to make it on his own.

* * *

 Alaric was given a bolas and told to wait in some shrubbery by the older men. He lied in wait for the meal to come the him so he could paralyze it. He picked the dirt under his nails, hopefully occupying his nervous demeanor. The boar came sometime later trotting and huffing. He began swinging his weapon over his head, getting ready to catch his prey. The bolas were swirling in the air and Alaric released the bolas and the animal's hind legs were trapped. The more experienced huntsmen came running to finish the kill. The moment came to him as he crossed the threshold of being a boy into man. As he realized he has supported his village and it’s people, that this animal’s death will nourish his tribe another day.

Alaric didn’t notice the pale rider until it was too late. The gleaming blade was upon an unsuspecting hunter and before you could blink, the edge of his sword tore his back open. The rider dismounted his beast by jumping to his next target and slashing his throat. The last of the three hunters realized the danger they were in, grabbed his spear expecting to hit this angel of death but the rider expertly dodged it. Noticing his mistake he reached for his gut knife.

As the hunter remembered there was one other still alive he yelled “ _Run for the village Alaric_ ” in a hurried voice. Alaric paralyzed up until that point took that as his cue and began sprinting the opposite direction and only heard the screams of misery behind him.

Alaric made close to seventy meters away from the arcane demon before the sudden bursting pain shot through his calf. Alaric heard what sounded like a thunder clap as he fell to the dirt. He felt the earth around him shiver as the horse that carried the demon trotted up to the place he lay. The weapon in his hand appeared to have been forged by the sky people. His face was hidden by a skull mask covering the lower half of his face. Alaric tasted the dirt as the monster's arm wrapped around his neck and he slowly lost consciousness blurring the world around him, engulfing him in darkness.

Alaric woke to owls hooting and wolves howling with the moon swimming in the ebony sky. Alaric was sitting up on a tree trunk, his hands tied around his back. A fire had been lit, his captor was still cloaked and masked. The demon was tracking each of Alaric’s movements like a wolf stalking his prey, made only more apparent by his icy blue eyes. Suddenly the pang in his leg came rushing back to him.

 _“My people will be looking for me and the men you killed, demon!”_ He spat out belligerently.

The unnamed demon began to dissolve into laughter at his new moniker. The man paused from sharpening from what looked to be a Butcher’s knife but in the form of a sword. He lifted himself upright, his emotionless dead eyes still following him.

 _“I do not wish you dead. I just wish that you will deliver a message to your people.”_ The monster answered flatly.

Alaric had almost grown a face of relief knowing that he would live another day. His face turned skittish as the demon squatted down to the fire and pulled an abnormal knife to his hand.

One side of the blade was sticking out in the shape of an arrow. The demon picked up Alaric making sure he was laying on his belly. While assuring that his hands were secured enough to withstand the horrors that were about to take place. The right side of his face had been pushed into more dirt and grass whilst his other side was only inches away from the red hot brander. The only smell in the area that encompassed them, was that of burning flesh. As well the only sounds that could be heard were of screaming and scorching flesh. By the time it was over, the arrows were placed and all pointing in the middle of all four cardinal directions on his left cheek.

* * *

The immense pain Alaric had endured pushed his body into a state of stasis. The beast noted Alaric’s deep sleep and began to pack his meager camp back up to his horse’s saddle. It was only up to allow him to cook, he knew he couldn’t sleep especially since he had a prisoner. He left a few bandages and a canteen to quell his own pity for the boy. The monster smothered the fire in case if anyone had found his prisoner too quickly. He desire was not to hurt the boy but he needed a messenger and got it.

The monster’s attention went back to his captive. He began to tie his captive to give himself more time for his plan to have more time. The items he left behind were enough to keep Alaric alive. They were only about 12 kilometer away from the nearest village which is where he expected his captive to live. He concluded his Knotting and mounted his horse and trotted away from his camp. The sun was rising was again after a long a night. The monster reached the treeline and relished over the sight before him of the crashed Ark leaning against the summit.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story so give me good vibes or constructive criticism.
> 
> Everything in italics is Trigedasleng
> 
> Chapters won't come quick sadly. (Thanks you dyslexia)


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